


i am the wild

by RRHand



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Finn Needs A Hug (Star Wars), First Meetings, Ghost Hunter Poe Dameron, Ghosts, Lawyer Finn, M/M, Modern Era, Mysterious Death, POV Finn (Star Wars), Poe Dameron Being a Little Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26938753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RRHand/pseuds/RRHand
Summary: "Finn aches for more, always did. For more people around him, for more excitement and adventure in his life, for something more that makes his life worth living.And now he has the shadow of a mysterious murder on top of him. Someone more optimistic would argue that this may as well be the beginning of the experience Finn so dearly wants to encounter, but Finn’s more realistic. With his luck, he’s more likely to be the next one to hover off the ground and perish."or where the something more Finn wants so much isn't a something, is a someone.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	i am the wild

**Author's Note:**

> hi there, gorgeous people! this is me, dipping my little toes in the finnpoe fandom. enjoy this ghost hunter!poe and lawyer!finn! hope you guys like it and see u at the end notes!

_witness me, oldman, i am the wild_

Finn’s hands are shaking. They’ve been shaking for about two and a half hours. He can press them together, put them in the pockets of his dress pants, punch his desk a couple of times - they just won’t stop shaking. Finn doesn’t really know if they’re shaking because he only witnessed a gruesome death in the entrance hall of his office, because he doesn’t know if said death wasn’t an actual murder or because, if it was a murder, it was commited by the air.

Yeah, the air, the thing we breath and put into our lungs and that allows us to live another day. The air. The air lifted Julian Wells a foot off the ground while his face got redder and his lips got blue and he kept scratching his own throat to the point where, when he finally fell down to the ground again, there were deep welts in his skin. 

Sure, Finn and Amanda, his assistant, tried to help him. Called 911, freaked out a lot, tried to perform heimlich maneuver standing on top of a chair and, of course, pulled him to the ground - the guy was levitating, for fuck’s sake. It was the most ridiculous thing Finn had ever seen, but also the most traumatizing thing he had lived through, because, less than ten minutes later, when the paramedics were getting out of the elevator at their floor, Mr. Wells was already on the ground, dead. 

Finn’s is leaning on his desk now, about three hours later, after having dealt with the police, the paramedics, the security company - they really needed that security footage - the guys that came to collect the body and, finally, Amanda.

She was worried about him, he knows, but she wanted desperately to go home and Finn couldn’t seem to move. He didn’t want to get out of his office and he didn’t want to get on the elevator and he didn’t want to go to his empty penthouse to waste away the rest of his day thinking about the man that levitated and died in front of him - the person that he had a chance to save and couldn’t. So he didn’t go and stayed. 

And he still stays, with the shaking hands and the wrinkled gray three-piece suit, staring at the closed door of his office as if he can see through, as if he can see Julian spasming on the other room. 

There’s not much to be done here, though, nothing to keep his mind occupied. All his lawsuits are in order and he had completed his to-do list even before his meeting with Julian. And, because the probable crime scene is in the other room, everything in here is in order, not a single one of the many portraits that decorate his walls, crooked. 

Everything is in order in this room, unlike Finn’s life. He’s stuck on a job that he doesn’t like but pays well, he doesn’t have the guts to quit and search for something else and he doesn’t have anyone outside of his family. Finn aches for more, always did. For more people around him, for more excitement and adventure in his life, for something more that makes his life worth living. 

And now he has the shadow of a mysterious murder on top of him. Someone more optimistic would argue that this may as well be the beginning of the experience Finn so dearly wants to encounter, but Finn’s more realistic. With his luck, he’s more likely to be the next one to hover off the ground and perish.

But staring at a door gets tiring and Finn decides to leave. Maybe he can stop by Rose’s place to see if she has a free evening to hear him rant about _what the hell was that? you know?_ and a good bottle of wine. 

He’s shutting down his computer when he hears the door of his office open and Finn lifts his head briskly. He has two quick reactions to what happens next, 1) thank god, the door isn’t opening on his own and the air isn’t going to kill him now and 2) holy fuck there’s a dude is breaking into my office. So, like the extremely polite person his mother raised him to be, he says;

“Hi, are you breaking into my office right now?”

The man stops, clearly caught by surprise. He has one foot in Finn’s office and one outside and the dark door covers half of his body. But not his face and _lord, is the man gorgeous_. 

He’s about Finn’s height, if he had to bet, with a tanned, bronze skin that glowed against the sunset light that seeped into Finn’s office through the floor to ceiling windows. His hair is short and dark, almost black, with little curls at the end of his strands. His eyes are black, too, and, for a second, Finn thinks he just might drown in their depths. The man’s got a small angry-red scar in his cheekbone, next to a strong, if a little crooked, nose - almost as if he broke it before. He’s got a bit of a stubble surrounding some really lovely lips and if Finn wasn’t about to get mugged, he might think about hitting on the guy. 

God, he looks like he could be a model. Not a real model because models usually have jobs that are very well remunerated and don’t go around breaking into places, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Well,” he draws out. “Depends on your definition of breaking in, I guess.” 

He fully enters the office and closes the door behind him. Finn isn’t all that sure if he should or not feel threatened, but he doesn’t. The man’s body language is very open and, not to brag or anything, Finn knows he’s got 20 pounds of muscle on the man, maybe even more.

“My definition would be something like entering a place that doesn’t belong to you and that its owner hasn’t agreed or permitted you entering. What is your definition?” Finn emphasizes, because, you know, where is he going to disagree on that?

“I would say,” the man answers in that same tentative tone. Gives two steps towards Finn, then, probably seeing the frown Finn’s wearing, gives one back. “It’s not really entering if you’re needed in that place?” 

Finn shakes his head a bit and sighs. “I disagree with you and the police on that definition, but anyway, you’re already here and I already,” he gestures around, trying to find a better word and failing. “Caught you. Why would you think you’re needed?”

The brunette has his eyebrows raised in a surprised fashion and opens his mouth to speak, but Finn isn’t done. 

“Why would you break in if you’re needed?” The pretty man starts again, eyebrows even higher, yet Finn is faster. “What is your name?” 

See, this is what you get when you keep on wishing for adventures and shit. Someone dies and a man breaks into your office. 

Handsome just waits a few seconds. “Can I speak now?”

Finn narrows his eyes. “Yeah. I’d also appreciate less attitude from the man breaking into my office.”

He raises his hands in a surrendering manner and opens a charming smile. 

“Sure thing. My name is Poe Dameron. And I’ve heard,” he winks and something in him tells Finn to run for the hills. “You’ve got some ghost problems.” 

Yeah, his adventure is here and its name is Poe Dameron. Also, _what?_

“I’ve got some what?” Finn crosses his arms, not feeling up to deal with whatever bullshit the good-looking but obviously insane and possibly mugger man is babbling about.

“My associates noticed an increase in the paranormal activity in here, so I came to check it.” He gestures to the door, a sheepish look in his face. “I didn’t think that anyone was still around. My intention was not to break in. Apologies for that, by the way.”

Finn doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he merely stares at Dameron, waiting for him to do something, anything - maybe, in his subconscious, waiting for John Quiñones to come out from underneath his desk and ask Finn what would he do if ghosts existed. 

Fuck him, honestly. Ghosts? Who the hell does this man think Finn is, some nut job that believes in anything? And what other kind of intention could he have? 

“Your associates...” he starts, slowly, non-believing what he’s saying and just wanting this day to finally end already. “Noticed an increase in... paranormal activity... in my office, so you decided to break in.” Finn sighs. “To do what, exactly?”

Poe Dameron fiddles a little with his hands. “To check if there really was something happening.” He shrugs, contrite. “And, I’m guessing by the police tape and the chalk on the ground, a murder happened?” 

Finn cannot believe his words. Angered, he says. 

“Are you kidding me? Do you truly want me to believe that ‘your associates’,” he finger quotes. “Noticed a spike in ‘supernatural activity’ or whatever, on the same day a man,” his voice raises with every word as he stalks towards Poe Dameron, finger lifted and pointing to the door. “Died in my office? Is that,” he stops a few steps away from the man. “What you want me to believe?”

Poe Dameron, though, stands his ground and doesn’t move, ignoring Finn’s finger less than 5 inches to his face and focusing on Finn. 

“Yeah,” he says, lowly and grounding. “That’s what I want you to believe.” 

He doesn’t say anything else and Finn’s anger starts to deflate. 

“What is your name?” Poe asks a beat later, when Finn’s dropped his hand and stepped back.

“Finn,” he turns around, heads for his desk again, away from the pretty man with the killing jawline that is saying ghosts exist. “I’m Finn.” 

“Nice to meet you, Finn. I’m sorry it isn’t in better circumstances. How about I tell you a couple of things and then you can decide if you believe in me or not. If you don’t and want me to go and never speak to you again, it’s fine. How about that?” He proposes, speaking slowly and calmly, like Finn is a mix between a scared child and a feral animal, like he’s out of control. 

And maybe he is a little. Finn isn’t quick to anger, usually, but he’s been thought a lot today and he’s tired, he deserves to be a little unruly. He locks his fingers behind his head, in his neck, and looks down, thinking. He can kick Poe Dameron out of his office and out of his life, close the door in the face of this talk of _paranormal activity_ and start looking for a new place for him to rent - but that feels so tiring and Poe did say he wouldn’t talk with Finn anymore if he didn’t want. Listening to the man speak with that smooth voice for a few minutes doesn’t seem all that much of a hardship.

“Go ahead,” Finn says, still looking at the worn-out carpet under his feet. 

“Okay,” Dameron thinks for one brief moment and then starts pacing, slowly. “About this murder that happened,” and Finn groans internally, because lord knows he already talked enough about this today. “The person seemed just fine, right? They were healthy and acting as everything was okay, huh?” 

He stops and Finn only raises his eyes, willing him to carry on. Unless he gets right some more specific details, Finn is going to classify everything as a lucky guess and never see this man in his life again. 

“And it was very sudden. One moment nothing was happening and in another, bam. Something happened.” 

Finn kept on staring, not inclined to give any more information then he already had. 

“I can’t really know what happened, our systems can’t tell us that, but I’m going to do an educated guess based on all my dealings with the supernatural. Maybe they got their neck snapped in the middle of a sentence or they just stopped breathing, clutching to their throat as if someone was choking them.” 

Finn lets his hands fall down - Poe Dameron is indeed serious with his ghost bullshit and it’s kind of fitting what did happen.

“Or,” he goes on. “They got lifted in the air and then thrown in the ground or they, for no reason, started bleeding from their mouth, eyes, nose and ears.” 

By then, Finn is back to his original position, leaning against his desk, like it could give him support against Poe is saying. And he’s saying so casually too, these brutal ways of murder like they’re nothing. Like he’s used to it. 

“Like I said, I can’t exactly determine what happened here, but I’ve seen it all. More than once.” There’s a haunted look in his eyes, when Finn turns to him, that makes Finn think that maybe he isn’t insane and ghosts do exist and this man, this astonishing man has seen it before and is here to help him. So Finn decides to tell him.

“He was talking to me and then just... rose a foot in the air like someone was pulling his neck,” he whispers to the office, without looking at the abyss in Poe’s eyes. “And he kept grabbing his throat and... we tried to help him but nothing helped.” 

He breathes a few times. Continues. Poe is silent.

“When the police got here, he was already dead.”

“Yeah,” Poe rasps out. “There’s nothing we can do in the moment, usually.”

He crosses the office to Finn, close enough to touch.

“Finn,” he says, voice low and calm, and extends his right hand. It stays there, open, waiting, welcoming, right beside Finn’s right hand, the one that is gripping the side of the desk like a lifeline. “I know you have some questions and I can give you some answers, but you’re going to want to see for yourself. If you want, I can show you.”

Finn looks to the right, to this man he met less than ten minutes ago, to this man that is looking earnestly at him, and he thinks about his wishes to _something_. Maybe his something isn’t something, is someone. 

He takes a big breath and seizes Poe’s hand.

“Show me.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed it! kudos and comments are super welcome! if you enjoy my work, please consider supporting me! see you guys next time!


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